An Artist's World
by Amaya And Aiko no Akatsuki
Summary: People say that the best assassins are the ones who can touch your heart before their dagger stops it. They can blend in with any crowd, become any face and live any life. And Sakura was one of them. To save a life she must destroy her own, and slake any heart that stands in her way.
1. Introduction

**An Artist's World**

**Summary: **_People say that the best assassins are the ones who can touch your heart before their dagger stops it. They can blend in with any crowd, become any face and live any life. And Sakura was one of them. To save a life she must destroy her own, and slake any heart that stands in her way._

**Author's Note: **Well, Aiko and I are happy to say that we have reposted this story. A lot of people have asked about this story and wanted to see it up again, so here it is! We've decided to change it around a bit; the original story had the characters in high school and there were a lot of OCs; we decided it was best to get rid of the OCs since they were unnecessary and we switched the school from high school to a secondary school resting between high school and 4-year college. It's sort of like a transitioning school for students who aren't quite ready to commit to something in college, or who don't exactly like the traditional methods of a university. Because of this, the characters are older. For example:

Sakura: 21 instead of 16

Sasuke: 22 instead of 17

Naruto 21 instead of 16

Deidara: 23 instead of 18

Sasori: 24 instead of 19

Hopefully you guys like this story just as much, if not more than, the old version. So without further ado, here is the new and improved **_An Artist's World_**.

**.**

**…**

**_Rating: _**_Mature_

**_Characters/Pairing: _**_Sasori, Sakura, Deidara_

**_Categories: _**_Drama, Adventure, Romance_

**_Warnings: _**_Violence/murder, theft, sexual content, language_

**…**

**.**

**…**

**Prologue**

**…**

**.**

**…**

**_There are things that exist in darkness. They're in the most ordinary towns, with the most ordinary jobs. You just don't realize that they're there._**

**…**

**.**

Today, like any other day, it was warm and sunny. There were little wisps of cotton-cords marbling across the sky; the trees swayed timidly against the gentle music of Mother Nature's breath; and the voids between the blurring, white wings shone a brilliant sort of azure. And the streets were bustling with bleary-eyed faces and purrs of incomprehensible chatter.

For a while, he'd been gazing out at the metropolitan backdrop with his cerulean eyes glazed over in desire. He'd fallen into a reverie of adventure and excitement, and allowed images of ninjas and serpents to play about his mind's theatre; and every annoyance of his everyday routine seemed to melt away.

The high-pitched ring of the desktop bell alerted him of a new presence, and the blonde slowly ambled back towards the front desk. He didn't bother to glance at the approaching guest—he'd been conditioned to greet and type. So he forced himself to smile despite the overpowering tide of fatigue. "Good afternoon, sir! How can I help you today?"

"I have a reservation. The name is Yasu Hanabusa."

The name spoken made the receptionist's fingers pause from their insistent dance across the keyboard, and the sting of realization clawed at the back of his spine almost painfully. Stunned, the blonde looked up at the man.

The man before him bore an odd appearance. He had silvery hair worn in a lazy fashion, yet wore a suit tailored to his lean body. And his posture was one of lethargy, as if indifference cursed him—but his most unusual trait had to be the scar falling across his left eye.

_Kakashi_

The name was unbearably familiar on his tongue, and his cheeks all but burned with his grin. Without a moment of hesitation, the blonde handed him a red keycard. "Do you need a bellhop?"

"No thank you," Kakashi replied, "I'll only be a night."

"Have a good day."

Without much more than a low hum, the silver haired guest meandered towards the glass elevators further towards the back of the room. Only once he was out of earshot did the receptionist press his finger against the silver clasp of his wrist-cuff.

"Kakashi is on his way up. Awaiting further instructions; over."

_"Copy that, Naruto. Stand by."_

**.**

**…**

**_We hunt who we're told; kill without question—the mission is the only priority._**

**…**

**.**

The light above the card slot glew with his entrance and his arrival was announced with a low toll. Kakashi stepped inside the room with a bored sort of expression, and he slowly shrugged off his jacket.

"You're late Kakashi-sensei."

He glanced at the woman seated at the table and smiled. She was average height, with short hair an alluring shade of pink and eyes resembling the purest emeralds; and as she brushed out a negative-schemed wig, she seemed absolutely unamused at his act of lethargy. Her name was Sakura, exactly like the flower—a name befitting if not appallingly cliché and conflicting. Though he supposed it was her previous mentor's teaching that was to blame rather than her father's lack of creativity.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," Kakashi replied as he picked up a headset. "I take it Sasuke is here, too?"

"I am."

Kakashi turned to look at the man emerging from the bedroom quarters. He was rather tall with hair darker than the night's void and eyes to match its depravity. But handsome as he was, Sasuke bore an expression of seemingly permanent displeasure. He was holding a pistol, most likely having just disassembled and reconstructed the glimmering piece for the tenth time in the day—just as he had in his youth.

A smile split across the older man's face as memories of blue-bruised egos and unversed antics played across his imagination. The last time his eyes fell across the faces of the trio of mavericks had been years ago, before he departed for Kusa, and seeing them again made Kakashi's heart clench with his excitement.

_"Guys, the target just entered the premises."_

Kakashi clapped his hands together in mock-anticipation then slipped the presented headset onto his person before he said, "Let's get this show on the road. Shall we?"

**.**

**…**

**_Our target's name was Yasu Hanabusa. He was 38 years old; bald with sharp, gray eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. And today, he would die._**

**…**

**.**

The doors of the elevator began to close on him, and Yasu carefully eased himself against the wall furthest from the doors. A sense of paranoia flittered over him as his eyes fell across each corner of the elevator, and only once he was sure the couple giving their sweet nothings was harmless did he dare relax.

They were a young duo—both bearing a red and white crest on their clothing—and they seemed to glow with their excitement. Marriage was the apparent cause of their delight, as they had offered him a cigar before falling into their display of hugs and kisses; but as happy for them as he was, it did little to slake the eerie sensation of scrutiny.

_He was being watched._

The low hum of the winch was an uneasy noise in his ears. And he was sure the sound of his heart tattooing against his chest could be heard over the quiet tones playing from the overhead speakers.

How torturous!

When the doors opened, Yasu slipped out of the elevator. The couple glanced at him oddly, their frustration apparent with the way their noses scrunched up; Yasu's impatience nearly knocked them over, and the desire to follow made their fingers twitch.

But as Yasu turned the corner, the male pressed his fingers against his ear and said, "Target has just left the elevator."

_"Copy that; see you soon."_

**.**

**…**

**_People say that the best assassins are the ones who could get close to you before you realize they're there._**

**…**

**.**

His eyes fell across the wandering shadows of his suite almost skeptically, his body rigid and his flesh pink; and he circumspectly crossed the room.

The floors were carpeted in a soft, tope covering; the full windows were bare, exposing the beautiful cityscape to his steely eyes. A sense of urban serenity caressed his wandering psyche, lulling him towards relaxation and Yasu sat himself atop his bed.

He felt no need to worry anymore—not with such open spaces.

A low growl caught his attention then, soon accompanied by the acute stab of famine; time had all but lost its meaning, for the incandescence of the evening had been overlooked. The desire for sustenance badgered all other thoughts until he finally forced himself to order room service.

**.**

**…**

**_When summoned, we take on new names and new appearances. We get up close and personal—to insure success._**

**…**

**.**

Piles of garlic and cilantro rested in neat piles around her posting, just waiting to feel her confident touch. Tendrils of smoke clouded her vision and heated her breaths but the blade she held sliced apart the meaty flesh of cow with little hesitance. And the heat of the fire stroked at her flesh, taunted her with its disobedience.

When the broth she boiled grew murky in color, she poured it into the crimped china provided, soon followed by the meat and the garlic and the cilantro—embellished with a crimson vial labeled "Cherry Sauce". The simmering concoction gave off an aroma of absolute succulence, making her own stomach coil slightly in the midst of desire, but she forced herself to turn away.

Her smile enlightened the confused attendants of the hotel, and they brushed aside her existence with little more than a sheepish grin or a heavy blush.

They disregarded her so easily.

Sakura didn't bother complaining or nitpicking; not even when Yasu brushed her off. He had led her inside so easily, to watch her prepare his meal and look up her skirt—but he still fell to her charm.

**.**

**…**

**_And when we go home, our flesh washed of blood and our clothes cleaned, we return to our simple lives._**

**…**

**.**

The spoon dropped from his lips with the first sip, the poison quick to paralyze him; and he soon after fell out of his chair. His eyes were terror stricken, full of desolation, and he could only watch and whimper as she went through his suitcases.

His veins burned with her venom, oh so terribly.

Sakura snatched everything of potential value, completely disregarding the gurgling mess of a man curled at her feet with a face of complete apathy. There was no regret. There was no sorrow—for what reason should she feel guilty?

When he finally stopped whimpering and convulsing, Sakura poured the rest of the soup down the bathroom sink and left the room.

"Mission accomplished," she said as she meandered through the halls.

_"Good job, you three. Let's call it a night."_

**.**

**…**

**_My name is Sakura Haruno, and I am an assassin._**

**…**

**.**


	2. Chapter 01

**Summary: **_People say that the best assassins are the ones who can touch your heart before their dagger stops it. They can blend in with any crowd, become any face and live any life. And Sakura was one of them. To save a life she must destroy her own, and slake any heart that stands in her way._

**.**

**…**

**_Rating: _**_Mature_

**_Characters/Pairing: _**_Sasori, Sakura, Deidara_

**_Categories: _**_Drama, Adventure, Romance_

**_Warnings: _**_Violence/murder, theft, sexual content, language_

**…**

**.**

**Chapter One**

**.**

**…**

It was early in the morning when Sakura woke up. It had been the ringing of her alarm that woke her, rather than the bite of early autumn or the shuffling of her rising roommates.

She would've liked to say her morning routine was unique or special, but it really wasn't. There were no extra precautions put into practice or special meals ingested—just a plain breakfast of eggs and bacon after her early morning run. And her morning workout wasn't absolutely demanding either; just a few sit ups and pushups to match.

Everything was just simple.

Her place of residence was just as plain, really, as she laid her head to rest with the other itinerants of the On Call shift. It was a room full of cubicles, each housing a single bed and blocked by a screen partition.

She had just returned to her cavity, actually, when someone dared climbed inside. It was Naruto, no doubt; he was the only person brave or maybe foolish enough to enter her room so daringly. And she would've berated the impish blonde for his blatant invasion, just as she had hundreds of times before, had he not appeared so morose.

"What are you doing here, Naruto? You're never up this early unless I'm the one picking your ass up," she commented, though her amusement dulled with his response.

"Sakura, something's happened."

**.**

**…**

**_An Artist's World_**

**…**

**.**

Everyone who walked the corridors of this mysterious place knew to call it the Hive. Like the homes of the golden-hued bees, there was an inexhaustible drone of the chattering soldiers and their accompanying keyboards.

But she had never seen the Hive in such a panic before.

The faces of her brethren were marred by their anxiety, and they seemed more turbulent than their typical frustration. In fact, it seemed as if their eyes would sadden upon catching her inquisitive gaze. Sakura didn't particularity like this sense of unease; it actually made her stomach churn so uncomfortably that the corners of her sight began to blur.

Kakashi was soon beside her and Naruto, his expression just as saddened as that of the others. Before she could question him or anyone else around her, she found herself pushed into the office of her kind hearted leader.

His name was Jiraya; and he was a jovial man with the mindset of an adolescent at times. Like Naruto, he liked to joke and play, to catch glances of the passing women's breasts; and on many occasions he was scolded. But he did not smile or joke or even attempt to caress her skin as he usually did.

It scared her.

"Jiraya, what's going on," she asked, gently but firmly pushing him away from her.

"Yeah, why's everyone downstairs so frantic," Naruto continued, also pushing away from the embrace of his comrade. "Everyone was staring at us and it's freaking me out. And where's Sasuke?"

Jiraya shut the door quickly, as if worried of the outside ears. The hesitance in his speech was enough to make Sakura quiver, and she nearly raised her voice out of impatience. But before she could dare try, the older man quietly spoke.

"Sasuke's gone."

He spoke of mutiny and betrayal of the harshest kind—the treachery of an older brother. The man he once called "brother", a scientist with the name of Orochimaru, had defected from their association for motives indefinite. He was an influential man who, with the help of his young apprentice, created many of the gadgets the Organization used. And with his absconding, followed seventeen others; including the boy once known as a prodigy amongst assassins: Sasuke Uchiha.

The news was devastating; truly and appallingly hard to accept. Stopping the tears that slipped past her lashes was just as difficult as controlling her doubt, and the dagger of betrayal pushed further against her blood-drained flesh.

Why they left was unknown to her—to anyone. And what they wanted was just as ambiguous, but Sakura knew what had to be done.

"When do we leave," Naruto asked, in a tone of sorrow too demanding for his smile. "We'll need to track down Neji and Kiba for this. Pull them off whatever assignment they're on. They're good at finding people."

Jiraya shook his head and said, "There is no team, Naruto. We're not searching for them."

He fully expected their outbursts, so hearing their shouts of refusal did little more than make Jiraya sigh in annoyance; but he refused to capitulate to their demands. Only when they silenced, red faced and trembling with their rage, did he dare continue his speech.

"Seeing as Orochimaru now has Sasuke, Kakashi and I have agreed that keeping you both here would only hurt you even more. We don't know what Orochimaru and Sasuke are planning, but it can't be good. So I contacted an old friend of mine, and I want you, Sakura, to stay with her in Konoha."

Jiraya set a hand against Sakura's cheek and wiped away the tears traveling past her nose. He could see the pain clouding her vision, making those beautiful eyes of hers darken with embodied disparity, and the sympathetic chords of his heart stretched. In her eyes, those demandingly fierce eyes, he saw _her_.

"Tsunade wishes to take you as her apprentice, and Naruto will do the same for me," he informed, then he brought his lips against her wide brow. "All of you are like my own children, and I don't want to see any of you hurt. This is what's best for you."

"But Jiraya—"

"End of discussion, Sakura. You and Kakashi better pack your things and leave before the end of the week."

**.**

**…**

**_An Artist's World_**

**…**

**.**

**_Eight Weeks Later_**

Reds, oranges and gold blurred over her still reflection.

The hums of the engine just barely reached over the jazzy radio tune, and the cadenced drumming of Kakashi's fingers worked as her own chronometer.

_"Orochimaru may go after you guys."_

Jiraya's words echoed through her mind for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day, and the memory of his broken voice was more than enough to make her throat clench.

She was in no particular mood, really—or rather, it wasn't something just anyone could recognize at a moment's glance. There wasn't any anger or distress that clouded her thoughts, and there was no excitement that came with her new assignment. She merely existed.

_ "You need to be careful. Watch your back everywhere you guys go and check in every week."_

Kakashi glanced at her as he turned the next corner, his worry hidden beneath his permanent mask of indifference, and he set a hand against her soft cheek. Sakura met his gaze almost tiredly, but she still smiled nonetheless.

Though pleased at her attempt to soothe his distress, a paroxysm of exasperation forced his muscles rigid as he turned his gaze away. He knew Sakura too well for her to dare fake joy, and seeing her in such a state of dejection was too agonizing for his heart to take.

"Are you nervous," he asked.

Sakura returned her gaze to the window as a yellow bus approached her side, watching the juveniles of town giggling and taunting, and she said, "Should I be?"

A sickening sense of precariousness suddenly rolled over her softly-blushed flesh as bittersweet memories of elementary school and high school played behind her eyes. She had once felt the same sort of anxiousness in her youth, back in those days of innocence—back in those days where she never truly understood anything.

_That time is over._

A moist tongue flicked across the bottom of her chin making Sakura sigh and stroke her lap-perched pup, Pakkun. He was one of her favorite hounds, really, as he reminded her of an old man with how he'd stare so pensively at her. _And he is as lazy as his owner_, she mused.

The consistent bellow of the engine slowly came to a halt with their pause, immediately drawing Sakura's attention back to the view outside her window. They were in front of a house—a picturesque sort of domicile with mint green paint and sharp, white linings; a wide porch and a large expanse of maple-littered pastures. A beautiful abode, she supposed, but the excitement was mostly nonexistent. Plus, she could easily see areas needing the charm of human touch.

As the doors on either side of Kakashi's Hummer frayed out from their natural fold, several hounds of various sizes leapt from their leathered perch, each giving their low yips of exhilaration as they gave their surroundings a quick once over. Kakashi carefully took Sakura's side and set his hand around her shoulders, offering her just the smallest of smiles; and she took a steadying breath.

"What do you think," he asked, gesturing to the mint and white two-story. "She could use a little bit of work but I think we can manage."

"It's nice," Sakura admitted. "You're going to have a lot of work to do to fix it up. I almost don't believe you can do it."

"Have faith in your sensei," Kakashi replied. "After all, I'm the one who taught you everything you know, Sakura."

"You keep telling yourself that, but I think I've always been a pretty good shot."

He hummed in response, easily brushing off her tease, and led her past the threshold. The mahogany interior was every bit grandeur as its outside, with its intricate carvings and glowing polish, but the telltale signs of tarnish and decay caught her attention.

It would take time to refurbish, but she had all the time in the world, she supposed.

Kakashi pointed up the kinked staircase, his lips pulled back and his sunglasses low against his nose, and he told her, "Go pick a room and head off to bed. You've got a lot of things to do before school starts, sweetie."

He snickered at the way she cringed, even more so when she said, "Can it Kakashi."

**.**

**…**

**_An Artist's World_**

**…**

**.**

The door opened easily with only the slightest groan in protest. Almost diffidently, Sakura eased into the room and after a quick glance around the large expanse, she dropped her bags. The room held a vintage sort of vibe, what with the innocent, princess-like feel of the design.

The walls were white—soft like fur, rather than the stark walls of a hospital—with decorative engravings of sea shells and vines on the wall trimmings; and curtains of pale, translucent pink danged from the crown of the wide window and spilled elegantly against the window seat. A crystal charm dangled off a chain beneath the center lamp, throwing smears of rainbow fingerprints across the room, and the mirror abandoned in the corner reflected her stunned image.

Slowly, Sakura crossed the room, the mahogany floorboards creaking beneath her feet, and sat against the window. The town seemed so quiet and peaceful, almost as if danger never truly existed, and a feeling of warmth overwhelmed the prickly chill of her discomfort.

_It feels just like a movie,_ she mused as she pressed her fingers against the glass. Her breath fogged up the windowpane with her imminence, obscuring her image for just seconds before fading away.

A sudden wind passed through the streets, and decay-accented leaves flittered in the company of the curling breeze.


	3. Chapter 02

**Summary: **_People say that the best assassins are the ones who can touch your heart before their dagger stops it. They can blend in with any crowd, become any face and live any life. And Sakura was one of them. To save a life she must destroy her own, and slake any heart that stands in her way._

_**Review Replies (From Amaya)**_

_**Alexia: **__Aiko and I intend on continuing this, for sure! Thank you for the two reviews, my dear; it means a lot to see such support!_

_**Sakura-and-Kami: **__Ah, the original had no real plot. I wrote that when I was still new to fanfiction and therefore had no real concept of plotlines and dynamics and character development haha. It was kind of just, a giant pile of stereotypical/cliché paragraphs jumbled into one monstrosity of a story._

_**LittleFoxDemon: **__Another review from you; how wonderful! Thank you so much for the support, Kitsune-san!_

_**Reiame: **__Awe, how sweet of you to say Reiame-kun. You know how to make a girl blush _

_**FairiesDescent: **__I felt like giving Sakura a different personality than I did in my previous stories. I usually make her more flamboyant/insecure/tomboyish, but I do like this over-analytical/stressed out Sakura. I think it's perfect for this storyline as well. Sasori and Deidara's introduction will come later on in the story, but I assure you, it'll be different._

_**Saka Tikoto: **__Of course we'll continue!_

_**I-write-for-enlightenment: **__I know how you feel about that; I feel like too many people make the characters 16-18. It's nice, but a little unrealistic. I mean, most 16-18 year olds don't own a fancy car or any of that, so I think it fits better to have them in their early 20's._

_**GreenFantasy64: **__Of course I published this story! I felt terrible for deleting it in the first place. This way, I can get that love/excitement of writing this story again._

**Aiko's Note: **_Hey guys! Thanks for all the supportive reviews. Amaya and I appreciate all the love and support you guys give us. Really, I mean it. We love you guys!_

**.**

…

_**Rating: **__Mature (check warnings below)_

_**Characters/Pairing: **__Sasori, Sakura, Deidara_

_**Categories: **__Drama, Adventure, Romance_

_**Warnings: **__violence, murder, theft, possible sexual themes/content and mature language_

…

**.**

**Chapter Two**

**.**

…

The water abruptly rushed from the tap, gurgled with breathlessness as the steamy air engulfed Sakura's body. The water appeared tangled and twisted; chaotic as it fell into the sweltering pool she dared rest.

When the tap shut, she listened to the excess droplets tumble into the tub with gentle _plip-plops_, watched as concentric rings expanded across the surface and disappeared.

Sighing in preparation, Sakura slowly eased herself into the sweltering tub with her fingers curled against the edges. Her skin pulled taunt against her clenching muscles, her discomfort obvious with the way she hissed, but she forced herself to withstand the flickering tide of heat.

Her muscles ached, terribly with her early morning workout, and the corners of his eyes felt heavy from purple-kissed fatigue—even now the fluorescence of the bathroom light seemed dull to her vision.

The hours in which she let her lids fall across the surface of her eyes had been a time of guilt, for her dreams were plagued with blood-stained horror and remorse, and sleep cruelly mocked her lowered spirits.

So instead, she ran.

She ran almost nonstop for two hours, pushing far beyond the healthy limits of her body in her poor attempt to outrun the condemning shadows of her fear. And when that wasn't enough, she ignored the aches of her muscles and continued stomach-churning exercises and knuckle-bruising workouts until Kakashi forced her into rest.

"You need to take it easy," he told her, sternly for once, "if you work yourself to death, I'll have no one to watch Pakkun."

And she snickered at his lame attempt at repartee and accepted his treatment of lavender-scented bubbles and a handmade breakfast of toast and waffles. She teased him at their breakfast table, between mouthfuls of steaming slips of coffee and crème, something along the lines of his ability to befall the title of the perfect housewife, and he accepted her taunts with little more than a slight huff of breath.

"Anyway, you're leaving for the school today, right?"

Sakura glanced at him over the rim of her mug, brow quirked amusedly as she watched Kakashi quickly shovel his meal into his mouth. "Yeah, I need to leave after breakfast. Why?"

"Tsunade wants to meet with you after you've settled in over there."

"Alright."

**.**

…

_**An Artist's World**_

…

**.**

Everyone had their tick. It was a special sort of thing that offered comfort to an uneasy personality, a unique task to lull the mind of anxiety and fear and apprehension.

For example, Sasuke followed in Kakashi's footsteps by disassembling and rebuilding his guns ten times per repetition, while Naruto forced his head deep into a dish of steaming noodles. But Sakura was different. She collected keychains—all sorts of glittering and amusing chimes and beads—and she would constantly roll them between her fingers when anxiety ebbed away at her conscience.

Just as Sasuke took apart his weapons and Naruto divulged in his meals, Sakura idly wrapped the black and pink lanyard around her fingers while reading the street signs as they passed. There were no words passed between them as of yet, and she supposed there wasn't really a need.

They arrived at their destination sometime before the third song ended—it was a boarding school that housed students who wished for something more in their petty lives as young adults. Its scheme was that of autumn bricks and crème concrete, with the emerald of the surrounding flora as company. There was no flashy architecture or angel-themed fountains; just an imperfect place with a perfect mask of untailored indifference.

"Do you need help bringing your things up," he finally asked, if only to ease the tension swirling about the car.

"No thanks."

"You know how to get to the house, right," Kakashi asked, watching as Sakura slowly removed the buckle of her seatbelt. She did little more than nod in approval, and he watched amusedly as she took a deep breath to prep her wits. "Come home any time, okay? And don't cause trouble."

"Yes mom."

Her sarcasm made Kakashi's handsome face twist and contort with his displeasure, and just to stir her annoyance further, he teasingly bid her farewell—with a loud "I love you too, Sweetheart"—that made surrounding heads swivel. With her cheeks burning, Sakura quickly slammed the door upon her exit, unashamedly dismissing Kakashi's playful response with the flip of her middle finger and scoff of her throat.

She pulled her luggage from the trunk of the Hummer with a low mumble of displeasure, and tiredly pulled it towards the steps of this mysteriously sculpted institution she would dare call "home".

**.**

…

_**An Artist's World**_

…

**.**

When she arrived at the door to her domicile, a room with the number "7" plastered above its entry, relief flooded over Sakura's thoughts. Finding her dorm wasn't much of a tedious task, but the fatigue of her early morning routine had finally caught up to her, forcing her body into a state of unrest.

Sakura unlocked her door and used her foot to push her bags inside. There was no one inside, she noticed, as the surface of the couch held no warmth and the kitchen made no sound, and she supposed it was a good thing. There were two doors on either side of the dorm, both leading to the private bedrooms, she assumed; and the living room and kitchen were furnished with standard issued luxuries.

"At least my roommate seems normal," she muttered.

After a quick glance at the clock—1:30 PM—she gave a low sigh and carried everything into the unoccupied bedroom. It was medium sized with one dresser and a closet hidden near the corner; and the bed sat draped in a green and white comforter that appeared too plush to touch.

Sighing, Sakura began to unpack her things.

**.**

…

_**An Artist's World**_

…

**.**

Everything had a certain place; an allocated location comfortable for her to reach, and she never tried to deviate. Sakura didn't like to search, to pause—to have to remember. And that was true for many things in her life.

She had been working well into the evening, arranging and shifting and folding, and the sound of her roommate's entrance did little to hinder her progress. It was only when she caught the neon purple processions of her nightstand clock that she decided to dress to meet Tsunade—late as she may have been, but Kakashi could be to blame. But when she stepped outside the barrier of her private quarters, her mind forging scenarios in which her roommate verbally assaulted her for her discourtesy and her nerves on edge, Sakura felt somewhat fearful.

_It's just another girl._

She closed her door, somewhat loudly to catch her roommate's attention, then schooled her nerves to turn on her heel.

Her roommate was a pretty thing in Sakura's opinion; with blonde hair drawn back by a claw-clip and eyes so blue that the skies pearled in envy. She wore various shades of blue and purple in her attire and makeup, and she swayed her hips to the percussion of a pop song Sakura couldn't quite recall as she cooked her meal. It was only when Sakura moved further into the room that her roommate finally noticed her appearance, and she quickly dimmed the flame of the stove.

"Oh, there you are. I'm making us dinner. I hope you don't mind ramen. It's all I have right now."

When she had spoken, Sakura found all train of thought wane, leaving her stumbling over her words in an attempt to reply—to thank, to introduce, whatever she thought she could do—and the girl snickered.

"Let's pretend you said thank you." She then wiped her damp hands on a napkin and put her hand out in offering. "The name's Ino Yamanaka."

Sakura took her hand without hesitance and smiled, "Sorry, I'm just uh, nervous. I'm Sakura Haruno. It's nice to meet you, Ino. Need any help with dinner?"

Ino turned back to the pot of curling smoke and sprinkled some sort of seasoning into the boiling meal, oblivious to the tense stare of the pinkette. "Its fine," she assured, "you're probably tired from your trip from Tanzaku."

The words spoken sent Sakura's shoulders tense, and an overwhelming cloud of apprehension lingered over the warmth of her pale skin. She hadn't told the girl of her previous stationing, so how could she possibly know? Carefully, she worded her question in a way of stunned curiosity, but held her breath as Ino caught her gaze.

"Principal Tsunade told me. She said you're her Goddaughter and that you were transferring here because of some traumatic incident," Ino explained with a frown. She set her hand against Sakura's shoulder in a comforting sort of gesture, and she offered a soft smile. "I won't make you tell me what happened, no matter how much I'm dying to know, but if you ever need to talk I'm here."

_Tsunade's got it all covered then._

Sakura smiled, so falsely that she was sure one of her emotionally-deprived teammates would be proud, and she thanked Ino for her kindness.

"Enough sad talk," Ino suddenly said, "after we eat, I need to start my homework. I hope you don't mind washing dishes tonight."

"I don't, but I actually need to meet with my Godmother in a few minutes."

"Ah, alright," Ino exclaimed and returned to her arrangement at the stove. "I'll leave you some ramen on the stove for when you get back, then. You have your key, right?"

Sakura plucked her leather jacket from the hook on the wall and slipped it on. "Yeah, I'll see you later Ino."

**.**

…

_**An Artist's World**_

…

**.**

Eyes, so sharp with precision, pierced through the glass of Sakura's imaginary barrier, slowly tearing apart the boundaries of her comfort. There was no particular mood or emotion that she could see at this point—no annoyance, no amusement—merely honey.

There was no malevolence, either, yet Sakura still felt her skin rise and her fingers tremble within the older woman's wake.

Of all the rumors spoken amongst the Organization, none were as true as the lore of Tsunade's splendor. She had the gaze of a lion—_so harsh, so cruel_—as if any movement would trigger her instinct of offense; her nose fell into an elegant slope and sharp turn, her lips so full with impish seduction. The cleft of her breasts slipped just above the lining of her collared blouse, offering a snippet of reality to ones' imagination, and the slacks she wore clung so nicely to her round hips that it made even Sakura blush.

_So beautiful—look away_

"You're late," Tsunade finally said as she slowly eased her back against the rest of her leather chair. "I suppose Kakashi is to blame for your tardiness."

"I apologize."

Tsunade snorted, "Don't. If you're anything like Jiraya says you are, you wouldn't apologize on will." Her blonde lashes fell over the planes of her honey-glazes eyes with her glare, her jewels' color glowing almost hazel in this artificial light, and she let her lips tug back into a smile. "You have potential, and I intend to work you into the ground. Think you can handle it, Sakura?"

Sakura dipped her head into an accepting bow in response, offering little more than a quiet mumble before Tsunade began to sift through a drawer within her desk.

"Good; here's how this is going to work. Your name is Sakura Haruno. You are a student at Fire Academy who focuses on Literature and Athletics, with minors in Chemistry and Technical Engineering. You are from Tanzaku, and moved here with your father to live with yours truly after a tragedy that you don't like to talk about."

Tsunade placed a student identification card atop the table's plane, soon followed by a cellular phone, a pager and a mound of manila-stained paperwork.

"You work here in the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays from three-forty until six, in which time you'll be training with me, and you will receive notices of your next assignment on this cellphone, which will be deleted within minutes of opening. This pager will be linked to my direct line so I can get in contact with you when your phone is unavailable, and will act as a GPS if I need to find your location. While you are here, you will maintain a B average throughout all your classes, and you will attend every class unless directed otherwise. Is this clear?"

The directions given were almost too familiar for Sakura to truly grasp; it was too realistic to her true desires, too true to be lived out as a lie—and she supposed it was better that way. She would live a life close to what she assumed would be her own, and she would enjoy this newfound sliver of freedom offered away from the heavy chains of her underlining life no matter how limited.

But being brought into such a new environment felt _odd_—too odd to fully accept. There were points of compromise and new scenarios—no true control or equation to solidify the harsh snaps of reality, and Sakura wasn't quite sure if the liked that.

"Yes milady."

Tsunade waved her hand in dismissal at the pinkette's reply, watching warily as she took the offered devices atop her desk, then turned away. "Oh and Sakura, you will not look for Sasuke Uchiha or Orochimaru."

"Yes milady."

"Good; welcome to my academy, Sakura. Make sure you settle in; I wouldn't want to find my dearest Goddaughter surrounded by bullies."


End file.
